Threads in a Spiderweb
by neurquadic
Summary: SLASH Snippets and plot bunnies of the Venom/Spiderman variety when the urge hits.
1. Spandex

**A/N**: As I see it, I can either whine about there not being enough of this Venom/Spidey on the net or I can try remedy that myself with these little snippets and plot bunnies cluttering my mind. Mind you, I'm NEVER happy with my writing, but what the hey... it's the journey, not the destination, right? Or.... something like that.... I'm just gonna post this now before I change my mind.... Also, each of these are unbeta-ed. Will I change these if you point out a mistake to me? Most likely not.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Spiderman nor any of the characters mentioned in this fanfic.

**Chapter Summary**: But another part of him gently hissed in his ear, soothing, liquid, and warm, that it was alright... he worked hard... he deserved it... (Spiderman-solo, Venom/Spidey)

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**-- Spandex --**

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**

Spandex is a fabric of the gods. Or, super heroes anyway. Light, flexible, and cheap for any super being on a budget; spandex is what the stuff of legends are made of. It accentuates curves and muscle, leaving in its wake admirers and envious villains who have had to resort to technology and other means in order to compete with their super adversaries.

But, there are drawbacks, of course.

It is a well known fact that spandex hides very little. It clings to every curve and muscle, accentuates one's assets... many a vigilante (and some of their evil-counterparts) have come to accept this.

But, for any new superhero on the block, the first wear is never easy. Criminals have a habit of cracking endless jokes about underwear, being a walking wardrobe malfunction, or wearing pajamas in broad daylight. Just to name a few... And it never helps when the very citizens you protect decide to join in on the jabs.) Though, Peter would honestly like to know just how so many could make a relation between his suit and a pair of PJ's. Seriously, how many people slept in a full body suit of red and blue with a mask? Was there a sale at Wal-Mart for Spider Sleep Wear that he'd missed?

And then there were _those _days. Oh yes, the days were _nothing _seems to go right, every thug has a gun and no idea how to use it, the paparazi arrive just in time to see you flee the crime scene in order to avoid the cops with their accusing trigger happy fingers and they automatically assume you're the one who's just robbed the bank and _not _the criminals hanging by a lamppost, civilians practically stand with their mouths gaping as imminent doom hurtles toward them like a train with no breaks, anything _can _and _will _go wrong, and, to top the day off--

"You've gotta be _kidding _me!"

--you got an erection.

This... was getting ridiculous. He had been minding his own business, swinging just outside the bay area as the sun was setting and his nether regions decided to pop up and say 'Hi there! We're here to remind you that you're still a hormonal teenager!' But what irked Peter the most was, he hadn't even been thinking. He'd been so lost in just swinging around town in the black suit and enjoying the freedom, he'd only noticed when he'd swung around the corner and his spandex had felt a little _too _tight.

"Why? Why me?" Peter ranted to himself, slipping onto one of the higher roofs and hoping--oh dear god, he wasn't religious, but he was going to be--that no one had noticed Spiderman swinging around with a boner. "Oh yeah, I can see all the newspapers having a field day with that one. 'Spiderman: City Hero or Sexual Deviant?' or 'Spiderman: He's Only Human!" He had long since pulled of his mask, hoping the cool sea air would somehow help, but right now, tugging at his hair in mortification seemed to help. A bit.

"Alright... Alright... calm down." He told himself, letting go of his hair. "C'mon, it won't be the first time they've bashed you for something--for now, we can only hope they don't have pictures." Ohhh, that didn't help. Already his mind was coming up with a barrage of comebacks and horrified ideas, but he bit his tongue and shoved that voice back into a far, _far _corner of his mind. Okay... He would find an abandoned building, get it out of his system, pull himself the jolly fuck together, and then get back to Queens. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could stick to the rooftops and avoid being seen. Yeah, that might work. Then, if he spent some time swinging around there and making it look like he'd been there the whole time, maybe any claims of being seen in the bay area would be rebuffed... Hopefully.

It was worth a shot...

Slipping his mask back on, and climbing down the side of the building, he was lucky to find an abandoned little construction site down below. It had been deserted for years, by the looks of it, but luckily the brick walls and what windows that hadn't been smashed by city kids had weathered the years well enough. The roof looked like it had caved in long ago, and still looked somewhat precarious, but he paid it no mind. His Spidey Senses would warn him before he could fall to... what, his death? He'd skydived headfirst off the Empire State building, so he was pretty sure a fall through one story wouldn't kill him. Give him a few splinters and maybe a headache and some bruises, but he highly doubted the latter two even.

Silently slipping through the hole in the roof, he landed on the floor and quickly let his Spidey Sense creep outward, looking for any other signs of life. Even better, the closest living being was a cat fishing around in the trashcans of the building next to here.

He easily pulled off his mask and gloves and then began to peel away the bottom of the suit. He hissed as his cock was released to the cool air, but sighed as it began to feel pleasant.

Wetting his lips, Peter gave a quick spit into his hand and then grabbed his cock.

And threw his head back, mouth gasping for air. "Oooh!"

It took him a moment, his senses--all of them--overwhelmed with nothing but hot, white pleasure. He came back, leaning against the wall, hand resting against his thigh, panting.

'What the hell was that?' He exclaimed. Never before had he been so aroused. Not once, since all the times he had ever jacked off had he had to just barely touch himself to feel **that **good.

Vaguely, he got a sense that something just wasn't right... that there was something entirely wrong about feeling such pleasure all at once.

But another part of him gently hissed in his ear, soothing, liquid, and warm, that it was alright... he worked hard... he deserved it...

He hesitated, standing on the precipice between suspicion and bliss.

Peter took the plunge.

--

Burning... burning so good... oh god, amazing.

_....we....._

He was there, and he wasn't it. It was his hand, only guided by another, but no one was there but him.

_...e...._

He felt others... swarming... growing... writhing together...

His hands dipped lower. His breath was labored and hot. Friction was unbearable and overwhelming...

He was all over the city. Scaling walls, walking among citizens, following the hulking shadow that oozed power and strength. Father and master...

_...om...._

Power was abundant, flowing over him. Every addition added to his strength, to their growing strength. But they hungered... they wished for power... they longed for another...

He squeezed harder, sweat gathered on his brow and plastering his hair to his forehead. So close... Too close... Wait... wait... wait....

She was kicking and screaming, crying and pleading. Such pretty blue eyes. They threw her in--oh she was delicious--juicy and tender. She fought, oh how she tried, but she was weak. She succumbed and their lust grew to near unenlightened levels.

...v...no...

They ached. They longed for unity... they had tried to fill the void left by his absence, replaced the loss with hunger, but it only sufficed for so long... they had found another... hoping this one could stop the festering wound in their being....

_....a...._

He had been weak. He succumbed like all the others... mindless and useful only to gather more. They still lusted.

_.....are...._

He felt it. They felt him. Around him. All around. Surrounding him, pulling him closer into a dark embrace. They folded him in dark blankets and silver tongued promises... fulfillment... union... together... mate.... one....

His whole body was hot... one hand continued to pump, the other was busy running over his own chest... and they could feel it. Everything he did, they felt, and they relished in it. Muscled their way in and curled around every sensation. To the heaving of his chest, to the furious pace of his hand, the pleasure as it hung on the crest of oblivion.

_....en..._

"Mine..."

They fell together.

_...Venom..._

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**A/N:** Hopefully FF won't decide this is too graphic. I tried to keep it as... light as I could without straying from the original idea.

Tell me what you think.


	2. Cars

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Spiderman, yadda yadda. Yippie Skippy for Marvel Comics.

**Chapter Summary**: Spiderman will date Brock when cars fly... oh lookit that... C:

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_"You have it, don't you!"_

It wasn't a question.

_"You know what that thing does to you!"_

Yeah... he did. Or, at least he thought he did.

_"Don't talk to me until you've gotten rid of that thing."_

Could he get rid of it?

Spiderman looked down at the streets below, golden eyes searching behind the thin veil of his mask. Funny... the only thing separating him from the masses below was a silly piece of fabric. Well, that and his powers, but then, any one of them down there could have gotten bitten by a spider--he just so happened to have stumbled across the radioactive one.

Go figure.

Sirens wailed from somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, but after a moment, Spiderman realized they were ambulance sirens, not the usual police cries.

'Surprisingly quiet lately...' He thought, walking across the rooftop. He jumped up ontop of a nearby wall, glancing any nearby windows for curious onlookers. Perhaps cleaning up gang violence all day had sent the silent message of "Play Nice, Spidey's Watching" to the usual frontier soldiers. Maybe he could go see MJ and explain that he had the suit under control now.

**_WHOP-OP! WHAAAAAAAaaaaa--_**

Spiderman sighed, 'Spoke too soon.' Shooting out a line of web, Spiderman lept from the top of the tower, feeling the web tighten in his grasp as it found hold on taller building. He swung around, looking down at the busy streets for the tell-tale blue and red flashing.

Only to blink and have exactly two point three seconds to register that a sleek, black Mercedes was flying at him and hooo'boy was this gonna hurt.

----

Spiderman awoke to several sensations.

The first was a loud ringing in his ears, the kind that only happened when he was lucky enough to get knocked around like a punching bag by Doc Oc, Lizardman, or any other bi-weekly villain who was fast enough to get the drop of him. The second was the feeling of being constantly jostled around, like falling asleep in one of those 3D theater chairs during the film (MJ had only forgiven him due to the fact that the night before their date had been spent helping the police settle Rhino into Breaker's Island. Oh, _that _had been an interesting night, To say the least.) The third, and most confusing, was the distinct feeling of having been run over by a car.

Wait...

"...Can't believe you... threw a _car _at me..." He croaked.

"Just returning the favor." Venom chuckled dryly, ignoring his cargo's complaints as he leap from building to building.

"Why'd it have to be a Mercedes? Do you any idea how much those things hurt?

"Vaguely..."

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**A/N:** What? Not all my thoughts of these two are perverted. Sides, if anyone ever threw a car at my head, I'd make sure to return the favor.

May or may not continue this plotline... just kinda depends. I'd like to finish it, but my Muses... they tend to have other plans most of the time.


End file.
